Time for closer look at NFL injuries

At least that was true on the field where the hard-hitting linebacker of Samoan descent — who was selected for the Pro Bowl for a dozen straight years — ruined many a Sunday afternoon by repeatedly pounding our running backs into the turf. But off the field, when it came to Seau's well-known efforts to donate to charities, improve the lives of young people through scholarships and mentoring, and build community spirit in his hometown, it was impossible not to cheer him on.

The Junior Seau Foundation, which he established in 1992, contributed more than $4 million to programs benefiting children and young adults.

When I moved to San Diego in 2005, I quickly learned two things about Seau. One was that, no matter what uniform he was wearing in those days (he played for three teams over two decades), he would always be a San Diego Charger. And the other was that he was something special, a larger-than-life figure who was loved and admired by legions of fans for reasons that had nothing to do with football.

Now Seau is gone. There is a pall over his city as his family, friends and fans try to figure how someone who was so loved by so many could feel so alone that he would take his own life.

When tragedies like this happen, people ask “why?” But, in this case, because of the job that Seau had for 20 years, those questions have focused largely on something we still know very little about: the effects of head injuries in football and the potential that players could suffer long-term brain damage from repeated concussions.

More than 1,500 former players have sued the National Football League because of head injuries. The players insist that the organization has been slow to acknowledge the long-term harm of such injuries and negligent in not warning players of the risks involved. In fact, the same week that Seau died, 100 players filed a similar lawsuit in federal court in Atlanta.

And while Seau was not known to have had an usually high number of concussions while he played the game, it's hard to imagine that someone who suited up for 20 years didn't have more than his share of head injuries. Take it from Gary Plummer, a former Charger teammate who told the San Jose Mercury News that he suffered more than 1,000 concussions during his 15 years in the game and that he believed they contributed to bouts with depression later in life. Plummer estimated that Seau might have had more than 1,500 concussions in his two decades on the gridiron.

Seau's family is trying to decide whether to allow researchers to study his brain for signs of injury. Initially, they said they would but then backed off to consult with elders in the Samoan community just to make sure they were doing the right thing.

Let's hope the family agrees to the research. For one thing, many suspect, it is what Junior would have wanted. Ever since it was reported that Seau had shot himself in the chest and not in the head, there has been speculation that the choice was deliberate and that Seau wanted to preserve his brain for science.

We need to learn from tragedies like this — and not just in a clinical sense. Certainly, we need to know much more than we do now about what the game of football might be doing to at least some of the people who play it. But we also have to learn to change our behavior. The NFL must take this issue more seriously, and make the long-term health and safety of players a greater priority. And those of us who love football have to be more conscious of what these players endure in exchange for the entertainment they provide us.

There have been many different tributes to Seau in recent days in the San Diego area, from rock crosses in the sand outside his beachfront home to 55 seconds of silence in recognition of the number that Seau wore on the field. Those are nice gestures. But If we really want to honor Junior Seau and others like him, we have to go further. We have to find out what torments them — and do something to stop it.